


Free Delivery

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Series: | January 2016 Prompt Challenge | [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M, baker!Stiles, loner!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has to spend his birthday alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Delivery

Derek sighed, flipping through the massive stack of envelopes he dislodged from his mailbox. A few other residents in the post kiosk watched him with raised eyebrows and vague distain, but he didn’t pay them much mind. So he didn’t check his mail often. So what? Like the postal service isn’t in the midst of its death throes anyway. Jeez.

He huffed and tossed the easily identifiable junk mail into the trash bin occupying the center of the kiosk. Having sorted his affairs, he gave a departing nod to the neighbors bold enough to continue watching him, and left.

The silence of his small apartment was more oppressive than usual, but Derek busied himself with sorting the mail. Bills he typically paid online, statements he usually checked online, catalogs from stores he’d shop online. The post really was obsolete. But buried in the pages of a circular ad, he found a pair of pastel envelopes. He frowned and tore open the first of the two—a pale green envelope from Cora.

 _Happy Birthday!_ the card read. And a message of love and happiness in her loopy, bubbly handwriting. It made him smile despite himself, and he set it aside to hang on the fridge.

The second card envelope, this one light orange, was from Laura. _Congratulations! You Survived Another Trip Around the Sun!_ Derek chuckled and was surprised when a gift card clattered onto his kitchen table. Thirty dollars to _Bakeology by Stiles._ Not bad—at least Laura knew him well enough _._ He skimmed her message: sending her love, and an encouraging _TREAT YO SELF_ on his special day, the phrase surrounded with hastily drawn hearts.

Yeah, special day.

A slew of posts on his Facebook wall, and a handful of texts. He had a few emails from restaurant mailing lists inviting him in for a complimentary appetizer or dessert, but a fat lot of good any of it did if he was stuck spending it alone. Laura and Cora were unable to fly in, Erica and Boyd were out of town and, well, who else did Derek have, really? He supposed there was always Isaac, but that boy was so far up some guy named Scott’s ass, Derek didn’t even want to bother.

At least he had his gift card. Something from _Bakeology_ would be so much better than anything complimentary from joining a mailing list; and he wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of a table for one.

He hung the birthday cards on the fridge with a couple of magnets, then snagged the bakery flier from the drawer of take-out menus.

_Bakeology by Stiles._

The flier was part advertisement, part menu, with a few coupons lining the bottom of the page. Coupons Derek had already clipped and used on his way home to his lonely apartment from his unfulfilling job. It featured the smiling faces of a few employees—one of which Derek interacted with regularly—and professional displays of their products. He read somewhere that sugar activated the same receptors in the brain responsible for happiness, and since his life was generally lacking it, he made a point to stop by the bakery in a pathetic attempt to experience it.

Whatever he ordered—and he was well on his way to having tried the entire, expansive menu—certainly lit his brain the way he sought. Savory or sweet, rich or light, sometimes thick and cakey, other times airy and flaky, Derek had no doubt why the bakery was voted best in the city five years running. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother taking the treat home; he’d sit at one of the small steel tables and save himself the monotony of his apartment.

It was nice, his visits to the bakery. One of the employees, this adorable guy with a line of beauty marks speckled up his cheek and a particularly plush pout—whose stunning grin also happened to be featured on the flier—usually made pleasant conversation. Casual small talk, something Derek never considered a personal strength, was remarkably easy with him. Sometimes the guy described the process that yielded the particular sweet he’d ordered; others, he shared the history of the recipe. And when Derek gathered the nerve to speak in kind, the guy would listen intently and ask engaging questions, always smiling and nodding, as if genuinely interested in Derek’s boring existence.

And if Derek developed a bit of a crush on the one person in his life who gave him a sense of undivided attention, that made him feel like he was more than an obligation or a comfortable routine, well, he couldn’t really be blamed. He loved his sisters, and Erica and Boyd were his best friends, but they all had their own lives. Cora was off at university, Laura was working her way up a law firm, and Erica and Boyd were planning their future together. Derek was just the socially awkward, cynical guy that orbited the outer rings of their lives.

Looking at the gift card sitting on the kitchen table, Derek wondered if he’d talked about the bakery guy a little too often to Laura. Maybe his crush was showing. Or maybe it was just Laura’s uncanny ‘big sister abilities,’ like when she knew he was bisexual before he did, or that he wasn’t as invested in basketball as everyone wanted him to be.

 _Fuck it_ , Derek thought. Whatever Laura’s motives, he still had the gift card, which meant thirty dollars of whatever the hell he wanted from _Bakeology_.

He called the number.

“ _Bakeology by Stiles, where sugar is part of the solution._ How can I help you?” The smile in his voice was nearly audible, and Derek would recognize it anywhere. The guy. _His_ guy, almost. The one with the rich amber eyes, and the carelessly styled hair. The one who sometimes had frosting smeared across his cheek or flour on his trousers. The one who always took the time to talk to him and ask him about his day.

Derek grinned, inanely giddy. “Hi, I’d, um, I’d like to place an order.”

“Sure! Fantastic!” There was jostling, and something that sounded like a muffled _holy shit holy shit holy shit_.

A woman in the background yelled, “Just take the order!” Derek recognized her voice, too. A beautiful woman with auburn hair and the greenest eyes Derek had ever seen; she typically worked in the back. The guy smiled at her with his doe eyes, dreamy and a little love-drunk. It always made Derek’s stomach twist when he saw it.

And then the guy’s voice was suddenly closer, and subsequently, louder. “What would you like?”

Derek swallowed and cleared this throat, then rattled off a list of his favorites: red velvet, carrot, cinnaroll, funky monkey, cookies ‘n cream, and a few others—all cupcakes. He didn’t know what, exactly, he was in the mood for, but he knew the cupcakes kept well; the shop sometimes sold yesterday’s left-overs at half-price, and Derek had never noticed a significant difference in quality. Besides, who knew how late he’d be up ruminating on his loneliness? Better to be prepared than craving a cupcake after the bakery closed.

“What’s my total at?” Derek asked.

“Um, you’re at nineteen dollars and eighty-six cents,” the guy answered.

Derek hummed and looked down at his gift card. He tapped it thoughtfully on the table.

“We offer free delivery with orders over twenty dollars!” the guy suddenly offered. It sounded impulsive; Derek hadn’t read anywhere, either on the flier or in the shop, the option for delivery.

“Is that a new service you guys offer?”

“Yeah!” the guy answered, and he sounded like he was smiling again, despite the woman clearly chastising him in the background. “Just rolled it out this week. So, like, if you add one of our butterscotch cake pops, it’ll bring you to twenty-one, thirty-two, which makes it a qualifying purchase.”

Derek glanced out the window and shrugged. Free delivery meant staying warm, inside, and not having to go out in the fresh snowfall. “Okay. Sure. A butterscotch cake pop. I’m paying with a gift card, though, is that okay?”

“Of course.”

Derek read off the gift card number, then gave the guy his address.

“Awesome,” the guy said. “We’ll get these ready for you and have them over in about twenty minutes.”

 _Almost as fast as a pizza._ Derek said, “Great. Thanks.”

“See you soon, Derek!”

The call disconnected.

Derek never gave his name. He stared at his phone and wondered, for a brief moment, if he should be concerned. Then the doorbell rang, and Derek checked the clock on the stove. Twenty-five minutes had passed without his notice.

Damn.

He answered the door.

Derek didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the bakery guy holding a carefully arranged eclectic collection of cupcakes topped with a, clearly, custom candy that read _HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEREK_. But the guy’s smile was sheepish and hopeful, and his cheeks and the tip of his nose were beautifully pink from the cold. His beanie and scarf, his shoulders, and even his eyelashes, were dusted in fine powder.

He looked perfect.

“I never gave you my name,” Derek said, dumbly. “How did you know my name?”

“I had you fill out a mailing list sheet after your third or fourth visit,” the guy said. “It asked for your birthday, as well as your email.”

“And you? What’s your name? I’ve never asked.”

The guy flushed, his cheeks coloring unevenly and adorably. “I thought it was obvious. I’m Stiles.”

“Obvious,” Derek repeated. He looked worriedly between the cupcakes and the guy—Stiles. It fit him, somehow, and Derek wanted to try it out.

“Yeah,” Stiles laughed. “Considering the place only has, like, three employees, and I’m definitely not Scott or Lydia.” But his laughter soon faded, and mortification—panic—quickly painted his face. “Oh, shit. Fuck. I didn’t think of how this would seem. You probably think I’m some crazy stalker or something, and Jesus, I swear I’m not. I’m really really not. Here. Just take your cupcakes. Enjoy your birthday. I’m so sorry I screwed this up. I’ll leave you alone.” He thrust the box at Derek and turned to disappear into the night.

“Woah woah woah!” Derek’s brain finally processed the situation, and no, Stiles leaving was not what he wanted. Not at all. “Stiles, wait!” He carefully set the cupcakes down on an end table near the door, and followed the handful of steps Stiles had taken. But Stiles had stopped, so that was something, right?

“What?” Stiles asked, and he seemed annoyed to have to endure such humiliation further.

“I don’t think you’re a crazy stalker,” Derek said, his breath a cloud in front of his face. He wrapped his arms around his chest, tight, and tried not to shiver as snow fell across the back of his neck. “It’s really sweet you remembered my birthday.”

“I’ve been trying to come up with a way to ask you out for days,” Stiles admitted, raw and vulnerable, bold where he had nothing to lose. “But you’ve always seemed really aloof and maybe not interested, so I was sort of at a loss. And then you called in with your order, and I thought maybe I could show up with these cupcakes and the candy topper and it would be romantic enough for you to give me a shot.”

“You’re the only person who’s bothered to ask me about my day for weeks,” Derek confessed. He didn’t have anything to lose, either. “I would have said yes, if you asked me.”

Stiles smirked. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“How’s your day, been, Derek?” Stiles asked, his smirk turning into a shy smile.

“Awful,” Derek said. He stepped forward as if to touch Stiles’ arm, but didn’t. “It’s my birthday and neither of my sisters could fly in, and both of my best friends are out of town. I’m all alone, so I ordered a bunch of cupcakes to drown my sorrows.”

“Dude,” Stiles breathed. “Harsh.”

“But then the cute bakery guy who always talks to me showed up at my apartment with cupcakes and a custom birthday topper, then told me he wanted to ask me out. So, I’m better. I’m great, in fact. I might even have a date sometime soon.”

Grinning, Stiles dropped his gaze, lightly kicking the soft snow. “Good to know.”

“Stiles, do you want to come in? I honestly can’t eat that entire order by myself.”

Stiles laughed and gestured to the still-open apartment door. “I’d love to.”

Derek took his hand and led him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
